


Stars

by Kittywu



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, mild revelations spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittywu/pseuds/Kittywu
Summary: "He wouldn’t have thought that he would see Xander as a friend so easily.But somewhere between lengthy conversations, standing on the battlefield together and sparring sessions that friendship had come as if it was the most natural thing."OrA tale of two men finding comfort and understanding, of a relationship growing and of looking into the night sky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i am really bad at thinking of gifts, even though i love making them, so this is my odd attempt at a gift for my friend atan, which at some point was meant to be a drabble and once again escalated into... whatever this is.
> 
> anyways, i hope you will enjoy this ryoumarx because i am incredibly deep in hell and should probably write a lot more for them. 
> 
> musical moodboard for this fic: [Keaton Henson - Teach Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HpPZo5LbaJI) | [ Joseph Rheinberger - Abendlied](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NpGibPW-7w) | [ Ēriks Ešenvalds - Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdxsUiAvKuU)
> 
> __  
> EDIT: NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL ART BY [JADENVARGEN](http://jadenvargen.tumblr.com/post/160552794660/mm-ohhmygosh-i-just-read-an-amazing-fic-on-the-way)

The silence between them was not awkward, it was cutting. It was harsh. It was the silence between two men who had been standing on opposite sides of a war for most of their lives, who had seen the other as nothing but an enemy for years and years. Of two men who had learned to hate each other.

Xander wasn’t sure about how it must be like for the Hoshidan prince, but he knew that he was sometimes having a hard time reminding himself that now they were allies, that they had the same enemy, that they were fighting together.

He did not hate the Hoshidans in the same way they must have hated the Nohrians – it was an animosity learned through indoctrination. But he noticed the distrust in their eyes, the justified distrust. He saw it in the eyes of Prince Ryoma every time they met. And even though he did not say it and probably never would, every time their eyes met, they accused him of taking the lives of countless of his people.

He couldn’t blame him for that. All he could do was bear those glares that were sharper than anything he could have said.

\--

Sometimes Ryoma thought about the absurdity of it all. About the absurdity of fighting alongside the same people he fought against not too long ago.

It was a night like that again. He knew that he should sleep, but he was feeling too restless for that. His thoughts went to the battlefield and to the upcoming foes they would have to face. He thought about how Corrin had said to him that she wanted all of her siblings to get along, and how she had claimed that they all had so much in common.

He was not fully convinced of that yet, and he was not sure of what he should think of them all, what he should make of the Nohrians. He did trust Corrin and if she trusted them, he should trust them too. He was just not sure if it all was a matter of trust.

And he thought about the time after the war, about a time where there would be peace. That there could be peace between the two kingdoms. A strange and unfamiliar thought. He had thought about a time after the war before, but he had never actually thought about what would become of the former enemies then. Truth be told, he hadn’t imagined it to be like this in the first place. And he knew that there was a lot of work to do for that peace.

\--

In the end, he told himself it was for the benefit of his kingdom and for Corrin.

\--

“Prince Xander.”

Ryoma’s voice was resolute, but for some reason it felt warmer than usual. Maybe Xander was just imagining it.

“Yes, Prince Ryoma?”

Looking at him, he thought the same. His gaze too, it felt warmer, friendlier. He felt like they were suddenly talking on eye level. He never had actually noticed that Ryoma had been looking down at him, but he noticed the change now.

“I need to thank you,” he said, his hand twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should shake Xander’s.

“I am afraid I do not know what for,” he answered. He went through the events of the last couple of days in his mind, the last time they had spoken, all the things he had done that might have caused the thanks of the other prince, but there was nothing that he could think of. He looked at Ryoma, his brows raised, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“You saved me during the last battle, you took out an enemy that was about to attack me from behind.” He sounded honest, genuine. His gratitude was not forced, it wasn’t an act of sheer politeness.

“There is no need to thank me, I was merely doing what I had to do,” he told him. And he was being honest as well. He hadn’t taken on that enemy thinking of saving Ryoma, he hadn’t thought of saving anyone in that moment. At least not consciously. Maybe it was all instinct at this point. That didn’t mean he wasn’t glad that he had.

“Well, even so, thank you,” Ryoma said and nodded. Maybe he wanted to say something more, he looked at him like he did, but in the end, he didn’t.

The silence between them lasted long enough to turn awkward, Xander knew he should say something too, but he didn’t know what.

But it was the first time that he felt like they could have a conversation that would allowed them to actually get to know each other, to set the first stones of what should become peace between their two kingdoms someday.

“I also think that I should apologise,” Ryoma said into their awkward silence.

And once again, Xander looked at him, eyebrows raised and thinking about the recent events, trying to figure out what could have caused this. And once again, he could not think of anything.

“I have not been treating you as I should have, as an ally, as an equal. The truth is, I could not stop seeing you as Prince Xander of Nohr, as the crown prince of the kingdom that had invaded my country, who was responsible for the death of my father and mother and the war that has taken the lives of many more innocent people.” He gulped. He tried to look Xander in the eye as he spoke, but he ended looking somewhere besides him most of the time.

“Even though we are fighting side by side now and even though we both agreed on an armistice, I will always stay Prince Xander of Nohr, so I cannot blame you for feeling that way,” he paused for a second. Took a deep breath. “And if I am being honest, I can understand this very well. But I do sincerely hope that one day, we can move past this, for the sake of peace and for the sake of our kingdoms.”

A small smile found its way onto Ryoma’s lips. “I hope so too. But I do not think that we should wait with this until some day in the far off future.”

\--

As the night progressed, they found themselves still sitting together and easing more and more into conversation. It started with a simple talk about the upcoming battle, an not empty vow of supporting each other and to truly fight side by side. And then they drifted further from there, drifted to general battle strategies, about how they thought it would be best to approach upcoming threats in the battle against Anankos.

They talked about swords, about their legendary weapons about warfare in general. Xander was tired of talking about ever the same topic, he was tired of the war, and he was still afraid of saying the wrong thing, he was talking to his former enemy after all. But it was also the only area he felt comfortable walking on.

Talk about their families, about Corrin, it was a field of mines – too many traps laying around that could turn the mood for the worse. So he stayed away, he preferred to walk on thicker ice than that.

He would have loved to ask Ryoma about his kingdom, he would have enjoyed learning about Hoshido in a way that wasn’t Nohrian hate propaganda. But he felt that there too was the danger of opening up old wounds.

And he couldn’t think of other things to talk about, he had to admit this to himself. He didn’t allow himself too much time to think about things unrelated to the state of his kingdom, hadn’t done it in way too long. Maybe there wasn’t too much left of him besides those thoughts anyways.

As absurd as it was, warfare was the most neutral thing the two of them could talk about.

So they did, did so for hours. Talked about it until the sun set and until tension left his shoulders. Ryoma propped his head onto his on his right hand, nodded with interest from time to time as Xander spoke.

And then they fell into silence again, it was not the same awkward silence they had had some hours ago and it was most certainly not the same harsh silence that used to stand between them before.

It was a silence of two men who knew that they could say something but knew that they did not have to.

“I do have to admit, I admire your strength and your way with the sword. It is a relief to know you on my side,” Ryoma said after a while.

This sudden compliment threw Xander off balance, simply because he did not expect words like those from the Hoshidan prince in such an unprompted situation. He wouldn’t have expected him to break their silence with this.

“I could say the same about you,” he replied, unsure if he should say more to this. “Especially since I do not think any Hoshidan can match your skill. And only a handful of Nohrians could.”

The noise that Ryoma let out was more a hum than a laugh, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“If you wanted to,” he said, lips turned into a smirk, “we could spar to see how much substance this has. I must admit, I have confidence in my skill.”

In his brown eyes, Xander saw a spark of rivalry. Some days ago it would have concerned him.

“It would be an honour. However, I believe we will have to postpone this match to another day.”

“Are you that afraid you might lose?”

“I am quite confident myself, but I was referring to the fact that the sun has already set some time ago.”

Ryoma sighed. “We spent quite some time with our conversation.”

“I enjoyed it, though.”

“Me too. I hope we can repeat this some time, Prince Xander.” He got up, smiled and nodded.

“It would be a pleasure, Prince Ryoma,” Xander replied, smiling as well.

\--

It was this one genuine smile, that smile that smoothened out Xander’s always frowning face. Ryoma had never seen Xander smile like that. In fact, he was not sure if he had ever seen him smile at all.

\--

It had been for his kingdom and for his sister at first, but then it stopped being something that came from a sense of duty. In fact, it had stopped being a task of a high prince moments after it had started to be one, and already during their first real conversation it had become intrinsic, his own free will to talk to him, to understand him, to befriend him.

Ryoma looked at Xander and saw a strong man who wanted the best for his kingdom, a skilled paladin. He saw a kind man who did everything he could to help those around him. He saw a man who was a doting brother to his siblings. The lines under his eyes were the ones of a man who had seen too much war and too little sleep. The frown on his face was the one of a man who had too many things to worry about.

He wouldn’t have thought that he would see Xander as a friend so easily.

But somewhere between lengthy conversations, standing on the battlefield together and sparring sessions that friendship had come as if it was the most natural thing.

He found his company strangely calming. He could not pinpoint what about him had this calming effect. But when he talked to him, he felt like he was talking to someone who understood him.

He sat down next to Xander without a word. Xander looked up from the documents he was studying, nodded and then turned his attention back to the papers.

“Am I disturbing, Prince Xander?” Ryoma asked, even though he did not feel an actual need to do so. It was one of the things about Xander’s company that he enjoyed the most. There was a lot they could say to each other, but they knew they didn’t have to. He enjoyed being in his presence, even if they were both minding their own business.

“No, I am just going over some orders for tomorrow,” he said. He didn’t look up this time and the way a strand of hair fell into his face made Ryoma smile.

He watched him read for a while until Xander signed the papers and put them to the side.

“I would tell you that you should consider getting some rest instead of keeping me company, but I feel like I am in no place to say something like that.” He pushed the strand of hair that had fallen into his face earlier back behind his ear.

“Because you know that if you did, I would tell you that you should consider getting some rest yourself?”

“Exactly.”

“Are you worried?”

His gaze went from Xander’s eyes that looked more worn and tired than usual, to the tense frown on his forehead. Xander pressed his lips together.

“The amount of uncertainties is troubling me. We still do not know how we will get inside of Castle Gyges, we do not know what still awaits us. It is not that I do not trust Corrin, but everything is very vague and the last battle took its toll on our soldiers. So yes, I am.”

Ryoma watched Xander rub his temple.

“You are right. But even though we do not know what we will face in the future, I believe that we will be able to stand strong against whatever opponent we will have to face. You should not forget that it is not you alone who is carrying the weight of this all.”

Xander sighed. “I am not sure if this knowledge makes me feel better, if I am being honest. I do not like the thought of people dying for protect me.”

“Neither do I. But this was also not what I was meaning to say. What I wanted to say is that it might do you good not to keep all your worries to yourself all the time.”

He placed his hand on Xander’s shoulder. The other did not flinch at the touch, he closed his eyes and Ryoma could feel some of the tension in his muscles ease away.

\--

Sometimes Xander was still unsure about what exactly his relationship with Ryoma was.

Most of the time he was sure that it was a purely diplomatic relationship between two princes, two princes who would be in charge one day of leading their countries into an era of understanding.

But there were moments, especially lately, where he felt like it was not.

Moments where he wondered if they could be friends one day.

He enjoyed the other’s company, enjoyed the warmth that he seemed to irradiate. Ryoma was like a rock, and something inside him yearned to lean onto him. Relying on him, confiding in him, things that Xander did not like doing but desperately wanted to do.

\--

Xander could not sleep. It was something that happened more frequently than he liked to. He did not give himself enough time to sleep in the first place, there was always something he still had to do or to take care of, some urgent matter that needed his attention. And then he got so exhausted that he either slept like he was comatose or he was so exhausted that he could not sleep at all.

The sun was already rising, and if anything, he had slept for half an hour. He watched the sun paint the sky over Valla orange. Eyes closed, he sighed and stopped for a moment.

He wondered what Ryoma was doing right now, even though he was probably still sleeping. There was the chance that he was walking around and checking if everything was alright around the camp or busy with something else. There was a chance he was meditating, too.

Xander wished for his company. Just to know that he was not the only one awake at this hour, just to know that he was not as alone as he felt in that moment.

He found Ryoma sitting in front of his tent, polishing his sword.

“I see that you are awake already, Prince Ryoma,” he said as the other did not notice his presence after some moments.

Ryoma looked at him and gestured him to sit down next to him. “As you are, Prince Xander.”

They shared a glance, a glance of sympathy for the other. Ryoma looked tired as well.

“Do you want some tea?” Ryoma said and Xander was not sure if he should accept, since there was just the cup Ryoma was drinking from around. But Ryoma handed him the cup as if he wasn’t even giving it any second thought.

So Xander took the cup out of Ryoma’s hand and took a sip. It was bitter, way more bitter than he liked his own tea. It was no surprise to him anymore, they’ve had tea together many times before. Just never from the same cup.

He handed it back to Ryoma, watched him take a bigger sip than he had taken from the tea. Ryoma’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed, and he placed the cup in between them as if he wanted to say _feel free to take more tea_.

“Did you sleep at all tonight?” Xander asked him after some moments of silence.

“I did, but I got up some time ago to take care of some battle preparations. What about you?” 

He could lie and tell him that he had, but at this point they knew each other too well already as that Ryoma would have believed him. He also did not feel the need to lie to him in the first place. “Not really.”

With a sigh, Ryoma turned to him and shook his head. “You are quite incorrigible,” he said, warm smile on his lips.

Xander looked at the horizon. “I could not sleep. I did go to bed yesterday with the intent of getting some rest, but I couldn’t.” He was not sure if he felt ready to speak about the thoughts that had kept him up, if it would even be appropriate to talk about that matter with him at all.

“Some nights,” Ryoma said, “I lay awake and wonder if back then, I could have done something to protect Corrin, if I had been able to prevent her being abducted. If things could have been differently if I had been stronger.”

It was unusual for him to say this, something this personal. Unusual for them to touch this topic, to go anywhere that had something to do with the crimes of King Garon. Xander avoided talking about those things because he was afraid of saying something wrong and Ryoma preferred not to talk about it as well. Maybe he was worried about the same thing.

Xander looked for hints about where Ryoma was going with this in his eyes, all he could find was honesty and vulnerability.

“I usually do not get any sleep then. I know that I probably could have changed little to nothing, no matter how much stronger I had been, and I know that thinking about this is meaningless. I cannot change the past, even if I wanted to. And yet, I cannot help but feel guilty about it.”

Ryoma gulped and Xander reached for the cup that was still standing between them.

“Excuse me if I am wrong and if I overstepped a boundary, but I assume that what kept you up tonight was of similar nature.”

If the air between them hadn’t been so fragile from sharing those very personal things, Xander would have laughed about how well Ryoma could read him. So he just looked at the cup between his hands and nodded.

“Lately, I have been wondering a lot if I should have noticed earlier that my father was not himself anymore and if there might have been something I could have done to prevent the conflict from escalating as it did. And how I could have been naïve enough to think that everything would go back to normal once the war was over.”

“You couldn’t have guessed that your father was being controlled by Anankos. And even if you had suspected something, it is hard to accept that the father you once looked up to is long gone. That does not make you naïve.” Ryoma shifted closer to him, close enough that Xander could feel his arm brushing against his own.

It was a comforting proximity. He had hoped to feel less alone when he had gone out to look for Ryoma. Xander had not been aware that he had been looking for him in particular, that he had not wished for anyone’s company but Ryoma’s. And yet he had.

“I am glad,” he began.

Ryoma laughed, that laugh again that was more of a hum. “About what?”

“That you let me confide in you like this, Prince Ryoma.” He had to smile himself.

“I am glad that you do. And I am glad that I can as well, Prince Xander.”

They fell into silence again, taking turns with drinking from their cup while Ryoma continued to polish his Raijinto.

Ryoma let Xander have the last sip.

“I have been thinking,” Xander said after finishing the tea. “If you wanted to and if you thought it was appropriate, I would be fine with you being less formal with me.”

“I would be fine with that as well, Xander.”

\--

Even though he had been the one who had proposed it, it took him longer than Ryoma to get used to them addressing each other just by their names.

\--

And there were times where Ryoma thought about how Xander’s presence made him feel a sense of deep contentedness. A sense of warmth, the same sensation that drinking a cup of hot tea on a cold winter day had.

\--

When they had fought the silent dragon, Ryoma had been prepared to die. But he hadn’t, no one of them had.

\--

“Tomorrow we will part ways, I suppose.”

“Unfortunately,” Ryoma replied. He felt somewhat bittersweet, as glad as he was about the end of the war, it meant saying goodbye to allies, to friends. It meant saying goodbye to Xander.

There would be coronation festivities in both Hoshido and Nohr, that they both had promised to attend but after that, there would be little opportunities, little reason for them to see each other. There would come diplomatic meetings and negotiations, but Ryoma would miss Xander as what they were now, as close and dear friends.

“You should not sound this upset about the end of a war, Ryoma,” Xander said. The tone of his voice was teasing, he gently nudged his shoulder against Ryoma’s. He was well aware why Ryoma was sounding the way he did.

“I suppose I should not, and yet I am. I will miss our conversations. And our practice duels.”

Xander pressed his lips together. “I will miss our friendship.”

“It does not have to end,” Ryoma said. “And I am sure that our friendship can be the basis of a time in which Hoshidans and Nohrians stand side by side.”

“I really hope it will.” Now it was Xander who had the bittersweet smile on his lips.

In the warm evening light, Xander’s features looked soft.

\--

Watching Ryoma being crowned as King of Hoshido filled Xander with a warm sense of pride, and he enjoyed the night, talking with Ryoma again. It was not the time and place for them to talk as friends though, and Xander missed the familiarity that they had built up during the war.

Just by how unnatural his absence felt to him, Xander had noticed how natural his presence had felt.

\--

Xander had always been such a man of duty, Ryoma had not been surprised that he found Xander in the King’s study of Castle Krakenburg way after the festivities of his coronation had already ended.

“You will have to rest at some point,” Ryoma said as he entered the room. “If you continue like that, you will work yourself to the grave.”

“The reign of my father has left me quite the mess to clean up,” Xander said without looking up from what he was writing. “So now is hardly the time to think of rest. But I appreciate your concern.”

Ryoma couldn’t help but shake his head. “It is the night of your coronation, _King_ Xander.”

“The finances of Nohr do not appear to be bothered by that, _King_ Ryoma.”

He sat down at the other side of Xander’s desk and watched him for a while. Despite the late hour, Xander’s handwriting looked as beautiful and tidy as always. His frown was deeper than usual and Ryoma tried to figure out if it was frustration or confusion that caused it. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Xander looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days.

He could imagine the amount of work Xander was faced with and the strain it put on him. And it pained him. During the coronation, he had hidden it well enough that the average guest could not tell, but Ryoma had noticed how tired and worn he looked. It was most of the reason why he had looked for Xander at this hour, because he was worried about him.

“You are staring at me,” Xander said.

“Am I?” Ryoma said it less as a question and more as a statement.

And then, with a sigh, he put away his quill. “I suppose I will look at this again tomorrow.”

\--

Xander supposed that it had been Ryoma’s intention to get him to go to sleep, and he had to admit that it sounded appealing.

But they hadn’t seen each other in too long as that they could just part like that. And it felt reassuring to sit with Ryoma again, during the war he had learned to be able to lean onto Ryoma when he felt overwhelmed by worry, doubt or exhaustion. And in this time, he felt overwhelmed by all of them, he felt like he was drowning in the mess that were the remains of King Garon’s regime.

He did not want to talk about politics with Ryoma though, not on that night, not after he had put away reports about tax incomes and state expenses already. He was troubled by them enough as it was, he was looking for distraction, not advice.

So he did not mind when Ryoma talked to him about how his siblings were doing, about his retainers and other people on court.

Xander watched him as he talked, as they slipped back into the comfort of their company. He had missed the sound of his voice, his voice that filled the room with warmth, soothing and yet firm. Ryoma pushed strands of his long brown hair out of his face when they fell into his face as he spoke, and that gesture looked graceful, befitting of the king that he was. And sometimes, he just flipped it out of his face, in the same manner he had seen him do it countless times on the battlefield. 

His confidence, his charisma, it was what made up a lot of his appeal. And the light of the candles in the study made him look even more handsome as he already was.

And when he stopped talking, Xander was still looking at him, at the small smile on his lips, at his strong hand that rested on the desk.

“Was this your father’s study before?” Ryoma asked as he looked around the room.

“My father had Iago handle most of the paperwork for him, in fact I don’t think he used his own study at all especially not in the… later years of his rule. This has always been my study actually. I prefer this place over the old King’s study.”

He thought about hours he had spent inside this room when he had been younger, as a young boy who started to learn about diplomacy and state affairs and as a young boy who had tried to hide from expectations he had not been able to meet.

“I see. So those are all your books?”

“They are.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” He got up and inspected the shelves, looked the books in them. Sometimes he took one out to look at it more carefully. After a while, he looked at Xander, then at the shelves and then at Xander again and laughed. “And here I had always thought your brother was the bookworm.”

“I haven’t touched most of them in years, but when I was younger, way before the war, I spent a lot of time reading.”

Xander got up as well, stood next to Ryoma and watched him eye one title after the other.

“I was especially fond of poetry,” he said as Ryoma took out a book that was still rather clear in Xander’s memory.

“Who would have thought,” Ryoma said, and he opened the book in his hand, smiling as he read through poems that Xander had spent hours with memorising as a teen.

“ _Now that of absence the most irksome night,_  
_With darkness shade doth overcome my day;_  
_Since Stella’s eyes, wont give me my day_  
_Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night,_  
_Each day seems long, and longs for long-stay’d night;_  
_The night as tedious, woos th’approach of day;_  
_Tir’d with the dusty toils of busy day,_  
_Languish’d with horrors of the silent night;_  
_Suffering the ills both of the day and night,_  
_While no night is more dark than is my day,_  
_Nor no day hath less quiet than my night:_  
_With such bad mixture of my night and day,_  
_That living thus in blackest winter night,_  
_I feel the flames of hottest summer day_.”

\--

Ryoma listened more to the sound of Xander’s voice as he recited the poem than to its content. He was not a man of the fine arts, never had been, but Xander’s voice was melodic as he spoke, deep and filled with emotion. It reminded him of music.

He might have been staring at him, at how he closed his eyes to clearly remember the words, how his hands made the same gestures he had made when he had held a speech earlier that night.

And he was incredibly beautiful in that moment, the ever so strict features of his face as smooth and relaxed as he had never seen them before, his golden hair like a frame around a painting. And when Xander looked at him again, chestnut brown eyes warm and soft and with embarrassment that came over him in the form of a face flushed up to his ears, it made him smile.

It was not like he had never noticed that he was handsome, he had. Countless times. But those had always been brief moments, small flashes of thoughts.

This time he looked at him and thought how this man in front of him was beautiful and how he was not sure if he had ever seen someone as beautiful as him.

“Was that a poem from this book?” he asked.

“It used to be my favourite back in the day,” Xander said.

“And now?” Ryoma was curious, he had never really thought about how Xander had been like before the war, in fact he hadn’t thought about if the war might have changed him and how. Now it seemed silly to him because of course it would have.

“I suppose it still is, even though I haven’t thought about it in years.”

Xander took the book from his hands, gently, looked through it for a while and placed it back into the shelf. Ryoma expected the conversation to have ended with that, but Xander continued to look at the books in the shelves and stopped at one particular book which did not have a title on its back. It was simple and leather covered, and the more Ryoma looked at it the more it looked like a notebook to him.

He was not sure if he would have been allowed to look at it, whatever it was. And it was Xander himself who took it out, who looked through it. There was more embarrassment on his face now, and he laughed at whatever he was reading.

As Ryoma glanced at the pages, he recognised the handwriting as Xander’s.

“I had forgotten about it already, but in my youth, I had made attempts at writing poetry myself.”

\--

Xander did not say anything else about his own poetry, they said goodnight shortly after. Ryoma thought about it for long, he still thought about when he was back at castle Shirasagi. And he thought about it when he found the poem that Xander had recited that night, as he read it over and over again.

\--

With diligence, Xander finished writing the last sentences of a letter talking about trade agreements between Nohr and Hoshido. And as he signed it, he looked at the other page that had been in the same envelope with what Ryoma had written about said agreements.

While those pages talked about diplomatic matters between the two kingdoms, the last page had not been written by King Ryoma of Hoshido. And it was not addressed to King Xander of Nohr.

It was written by Ryoma, addressed to Xander.

He read it once again. Smiled at what Ryoma had written to him. In his head, he could hear his voice say those same words to him, he could imagine his face as he said them, how his hands would move and how his presence would fill the room they were in. But Xander had just this letter, just this one page, and it made his chest ache.

He missed him. Terribly. He had not seen him since his coronation, there had been letters, mostly diplomatic. But they usually contained a private letter just like this one had. Xander had kept them all, they were all in the third drawer of his desk.

During the war, he had often laid awake, thinking of people that had died by his hand and of people that had died because he hadn’t been able to protect them. These days, he sometimes laid awake at night thinking about how much he craved Ryoma’s company. How he would give all the treasures he possessed to be able to spend a night like they had after the coronation.

It was alarming, since he could not remember ever having missed someone as much as he missed Ryoma.

And sometimes, in those sleepless nights or as he sat at his desk thinking of what he should reply to Ryoma’s letter, he thought about how easy it would be to fall for Ryoma.

\--

That evening, for the first time in years, Xander wrote a poem.

\--

For Ryoma, festivities such as balls had always been something he attended out of duty, not out of particular interest. They did not annoy him as they annoyed Takumi and they did not frighten him as they frightened Sakura, but he did not really enjoy himself either.

He had never looked forward to such festivities.

So why did he find himself counting the days until the great ball in the opera house of Cyrkensia? He wondered himself, but the answer to that was as simple as it could be. He didn’t particularly look forward to the ball in itself, he looked forward to it because it meant he would see Xander again.

\--

The air inside the opera house was stale from too many people chatting and dancing, and after some hours, Ryoma could hardly bear it anymore. He had spent most of the evening avoiding to get asked to dance and spending it with small talk with all kinds of royalty.

As he stepped onto the balcony, the crisp February air felt fresh in his lungs and the music and laughter seemed far away. And as he looked around, he felt as if it must have been some act of divine providence that he had decided to come to exactly this balcony in exactly that moment.

“What a surprise to find you here,” he said and walked towards the railing.

Xander looked at him and smiled. “I could say the same to you.”

They had exchanged greetings earlier that evening, formal, from one king to another. He hadn’t really seen Xander ever since and it would have been a lie had he said he hadn’t been disappointed about that.

Xander’s shoulder was brushing against his.

He was not sure what he should say, there were a lot of things he wanted to say, and part of him just wanted to enjoy the silence on the balcony, wanted to share the night sky and the stars with him.

“Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” Xander asked after a while.

“I try not to make a fool out of myself by attempting to dance,” he said.

It made Xander laugh a bit, a sound that Ryoma could have gotten drunk on.

“You cannot dance?”

“Not the dances that one would dance on a Cyrkensian ball at least.” His skills, or rather his lack thereof was not something he would admit willingly, but he felt comfortable enough around Xander to say something like this.

“Fascinating,” Xander said and there was a teasing smirk on his face as he did. “At least you don’t have to dance with just about every woman on this ball that way.”

“Did you?”

“Maybe half of them.”

For some reason Ryoma felt a hint of jealousy, he wasn’t sure of what exactly. It might have been knowing that Xander had spent the evening dancing with those people, and it might have been knowing that he could not dance with Xander like that.

And it was strange to him that he regretted not knowing how to properly dance in that moment.

They were both silent again.

“It might be an odd question,” Ryoma said before taking a deep breath. “But would you dance with me?”

“I thought you cannot dance?” Xander looked at him, brows raised. He did not look like he was against it though.

“That is why I am asking you to dance on this balcony.”

Xander closed his eyes for a second, let out something that could have been a laugh or a sigh. Then he turned to Ryoma.

“May I have this dance?”

\--

It was strange dancing like this with Ryoma, and after the first couple of steps, Xander had realised what Ryoma had meant when he had said that he couldn’t dance. And yet, he did not mind. He was too captivated by Ryoma’s hand on his shoulder, by Ryoma’s hand in his.

He nearly forgot how to breathe.

When he had seen Ryoma again earlier that night, he had known. He was not sure when it had happened, and how it had happened. But he knew that it wasn’t a matter of if he could anymore because he had already fallen for Ryoma.

And as he danced with him, he felt a sense of doom that he had never experienced before. It was like being in love with the stars, far away, unattainable.

He was the king of Nohr and as such, being in love with the king of Hoshido was a lot of things, but reasonable was not one of them. He didn’t even bother thinking about what could be if Ryoma were to return his feelings, he didn’t allow himself to think about it. He did not expect him to, he knew better as to expect something as foolish from the other man.

But like a man who was in love with the stars, he admired what he could not have.

\--

The music changed and Ryoma knew that his dance was over, that he probably should go back inside and that Xander should too, but he wanted to cherish that moment, that moment of pretending, he did not want it to end just yet.

In another world, he might have dreamed of having.

And he wished that he could have, that it would not feel like a figment of the imagination of a fool. He did not know how exactly Xander thought of him, but he was at least not foolish enough yet to believe that Xander could share the same gentle feelings that he had for him.

Xander was always the one who had an easier time saying goodbye to him, the one more careful and distant in their interactions.

He looked at the ground as they parted, avoided Xander’s eyes. Xander did not look at him either and he thanked him for the dance, he did not say anything else.

For the first time in very long, the silence between them felt uncomfortable and awkward.

“I suppose I should go back inside,” Xander said after some time.

“I probably should do the same,” Ryoma said.

And that was how that moment ended, how he was forced to move back to reality.

\--

In his dreams, Ryoma thought about it over and over again. He had heard his own heartbeat pounding in his ears while they had been dancing, and his palms had been sweaty. He wondered if Xander had noticed, he was sure that he had.

\--

Xander looked at the night sky from the window of his study, he looked at the stars. At least he could see the stars every night.

\--

As time went by, Xander had hoped that his feelings would change or at least fade out. They didn’t, however.

It had been nearly a year since peace had been restored, and about half a year since the ball in Cyrkensia. He had spent sleepless nights with stargazing, and he had spent days hoping that a messenger would bring any sort of letter from Hoshido.

If anything, he was more in love than he had been before. And it was painful, incredibly painful.

Xander was looking forward to seeing Ryoma again. His glance fell onto the letter from Corrin and Azura that invited the Nohrian royal family to the anniversary celebration of defeating Anankos, a small party held in Castle Gyges. It was probably mostly held as an excuse to invite all of her siblings to the kingdom of Valla.

He wondered if he should write to Ryoma how much he was looking forward to seeing him again. He had quite the collection of letters in his drawer already and he wondered if Ryoma kept his just like he did.

With every letter, writing them became harder and harder. It was maybe that he missed him more the more time had passed. It was maybe that he had started to discard drafts because he had written things that he simply could not write.

He never wrote how much he missed him, or that he would love to dance with him again. That he thought of his eyes, his smile, his hands too much. That Ryoma made him feel so secure, so comfortable like he had never been before.

He never wrote that when he couldn’t sleep, he wondered how it might be like to let Ryoma’s voice lull him in. Or that he thought that he was incredibly handsome. Or that it sent shivers down his spine to think about those moments in Cyrkensia, how close they had been, hands intertwined and his hand on Ryoma’s shoulder blade. How warm he had felt.

He forced himself to keep those thoughts to himself. At first, he had tried to force himself not to think of it at all. But he had soon realised that there was no point in that.

\--

Ryoma could not sleep. He blamed it on his heart, on spending the entire evening secretly hoping that he would get a chance to talk to Xander. He had been happy to see Corrin and Azura again, he really had, and he had enjoyed every second that he had spent with them. And still, he had hoped that he would get to have a moment with the other king again, a moment that would keep him awake in sleepless nights to come.

He did not want to dream of having and yet he did.

It was a clear night, mild, early fall. Above him, the sky was filled with stars, bright and silvery glistening stars. He wondered if Xander was sleeping, he hoped that he was. He somehow hoped that he wasn’t. As he walked through the garden of Castle Gyges, he noticed that he had gone outside in hope of meeting him.

He found Xander sitting on the grass, looking at the sky above him.

“Ryoma,” he just said into the night.

He sat down next to him.

The moonlight, his golden hair falling into his face, his gaze directed at the stars, what Ryoma looked at could have been straight from a painting, could have been from a dream.

“I have discovered lately that I find looking at the stars very calming,” Xander said.

“They have something beautiful to them,” he replied. Xander’s face was beautiful, elegant.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Xander was looking at the stars and Ryoma at him.

“I have missed you,” Ryoma said quietly.

Xander’s chest rose as he inhaled. “I did too.”

It gave him a feeling of comfort, knowing that Xander missed him. It eased the tightness in his throat, the aching in his chest.

“It is a rather silly question, but I was wondering if you keep the letters that I wrote you.” Usually, Xander’s voice was firm, sometimes strict. As he said those words it was not. It was soft, tender, maybe even slightly insecure.

“I do,” Ryoma said. He thought of how he kept them in a box in his chambers. How he sometimes reread them. “All of them.”

For the first time that night, Xander looked at him. He seemed to be relieved by what Ryoma had said. Tension vanished from his shoulders as he closed his eyes for a second. “I do the same.”

He wondered what Xander was thinking, there was something on his mind, he could tell. Ryoma looked up at the stars himself, curious if he would see the same thing that Xander was seeing.

At first, he did not notice Xander’s head on his shoulder. And when he did, he suddenly noticed it with such an intensity that his heartbeat started to race, barely able to breathe, electricity all throughout his body.

He loved him.

He loved him so much that it made his heart ache, that he could not sleep at night. He knew that he should not hope for Xander to love him in the same way that he did.

 _But what if,_ he thought as he placed his hand next to Xander’s, as their pinkies brushed against each other.

Xander did not move his hand away, moved his hand even closer, as close as possible. His pinkie rubbing over Ryoma’s.

He loved him.

And he wondered what would happen if he would touch Xander’s cheek with his other hand. He looked at Xander and Xander at him. He did not dare to breathe.

He loved him like he had never loved anyone before.

Somehow, the distance between them grew smaller and smaller. Ryoma was looking at Xander’s eyes, at his lips. He was sure that Xander must have been able to hear his heart race.

And then there it was, that moment where his lips brushed over Xander’s, gently, carefully. He was not sure what he was doing. All he knew was that his face was heating up and that he started to feel lightheaded.

“I am sorry,” he said, barely audible as they parted.

“You don’t have to be,” Xander said, just as quiet. It was as if they were scared that someone could hear their words, even though they were alone outside.

Their lips met again, this time longer, deeper. Ryoma let his hand slide down onto Xander’s neck. Xander’s hand was warm on Ryoma’s waist.

\--

For quite some time, Xander had wondered how Ryoma’s hair must feel like.

He knew now that it was soft and silky, and that it felt satisfying to run his fingers through it.

“I never thought that you would be as foolish as me,” he said as he twirled a strand of brown hair around his index finger.

Ryoma seemed to be close to dozing off, his head rested in Xander’s lap, eyes closed. He hummed in response.

“You should not fall asleep here.” He caressed Ryoma’s cheek with a featherlike touch.

“Don’t worry, I will not fall asleep in your lap, as tempting as it may sound.” Ryoma looked at him, looked at him so fondly, it could have made him explode.

“Some other day, maybe.”

“Hopefully,” Ryoma said, took Xander’s hand into his and intertwined their fingers.  

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 89 by Sir Philip Sydney.
> 
> Thank you for reading !!


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